


I like my body when it is with your body

by bookoftheazuresky



Category: Log Horizon
Genre: First Time, M/M, Makeouts, Naotsugu is a bro, Shiroe is a virgin, Shiroe worries a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9304223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookoftheazuresky/pseuds/bookoftheazuresky
Summary: After the Abyssal Shaft, Shiroe gets a chance to relax and guildmaster of the Silver Sword grabs the opportunity to show Shiroe just how attractive he finds the archmage.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had the first half or so of this for about a year, then finally managed to push through and finish the rest. See, you can come back to stuff! My thanks to DivineMadness for betaing, even though this so isn't her fandom.
> 
> Title is from ee cummings.

Even in the dead of winter, the inside of the tavern was much too warm - overcrowded, the air stifling. The frosty air was a relief to Shiroe as he walked outside onto the terrace, moved to the railing and brushed off a crusted layer of snow. He leaned against it, taking a deep breath. The light of day was swiftly westering, shadows elongating as the sun dropped below the horizon. In Akibahara, the sky would have been riotous with sunset colors; here, the clouds hung gray and low with the promise of more snow, leaching the light from the setting sun. The strategist sighed. After close to a month spent underground, even Susukino’s frosted wilderness was inviting. But Shiroe missed the green trees and overgrown buildings of Akibahara, the cheer of her sunny days. Even in winter, the atmosphere of the town was entirely different from this far northern outpost, where the days ran short and all sound seemed muffled by the ever-present snow. Necessary though this trip had been, Shiroe missed the city that had become his home, unwilling though his initial arrival had been.

 

Shiroe’s contemplation of when exactly the next snowfall was due was interrupted by the sound of someone else leaving the tavern. “Party getting a bit much for you?” William asked, striding towards the railing to join him. He was still wearing his field gear. Shiroe didn’t think he’d ever seen William out of it except to sleep; even when they had met to set up the raid and William had been relaxing in the guildhall, he’d still been wearing it. Regardless, a fine edge of tension had bled out of his demeanor now that they were back in the guildmaster’s territory. Shiroe recognized the relief- responsibility had always sat heavily on his own shoulders, too.

 

Shiroe smiled sheepishly at him. “They’re a bit rowdier than my guildmates.” He’d never been too fond of parties anyway. Chances were, even back in Akibahara, he would have gone out for air.

 

William quirked his lips in a tolerant smile. “After all that, they’ve got more reason to celebrate than usual.” His grin broadened with pride. “We would have been ecstatic to manage such a victory, even at the top of our recruitment.” A tinge of melancholy slipped into his voice as he turned to look out over the town. “Even some of the members who dropped raids are here. It’s nice to feel like a full guild again.”

 

The strategist dipped his chin in silent acknowledgement. They stood quietly for a little while, watching as twilight turned dark.

The last remnants of the sun were a gray smear close to the horizon when William spoke up, his voice low, “Actually, I wanted to thank you.”

 

Shiroe turned towards him, surprised. William met his gaze, his blond hair falling across his face catching the light of the lamps shining from both within the building and on Susukino’s streets. Shiroe still didn’t understand why he was so willing to let his hair drop across his vision like that; it seemed like something an archer would want to avoid.

 

William continued before the strategist could formulate something to say. “I appreciate that you trusted the Silver Sword enough to come to us with your plans. Even though I walked out of the Round Table Conference and brought everyone with me here, you still came to me when you needed help.” He raised a hand to Shiroe’s shoulder, his bare fingers brushing against the silky fabric of his white coat. The strategist could feel the warmth of his hand there.

 

Shiroe wet his lips, nervous under the strength of the guildmaster’s regard, even though they had spent the last month as comrades-in-arms. He could never fully relax when it came to interacting with other people-too many variables in play to be careless with his words or actions. On the battlefield, he had been comfortable speaking with any member of the Silver Sword, knowing that they would trust his judgment of an encounter and act accordingly. Now, he felt the impulse to squirm.

 

“Just because you didn’t agree with the Round Table doesn’t mean that you aren’t trustworthy,” Shiroe said carefully. He was acutely aware of the archer’s hand still resting lightly against his shoulder, fingers curled slightly around his upper arm. “Quite a few people thought it was crazy. I imagine even some of the people who supported it were secretly convinced it wasn’t going to work as a long term solution.”

 

“But I was the only one to walk out.”

 

The strategist felt his lips twitch. “I would rather,” he said wryly, “face an honest opponent, than one who pretends to support me only to undermine me in the shadows.” The South was at the top of his list of problems when he got back. He would need to divulge some of the secrets he had been carrying, in the hope that the shared burden would help to lead to a solution.

 

William smiled, the expression matching the ironic tilt Shiroe felt on his own face. “Honest, is it?”

 

“After spending a month strategizing with you, I would know.” William wasn’t a bad tactician in his own right. He had a good understanding of the subtleties of running a raid, not surprising, but also a good instinct for the placement of his guildmates to the best advantage of their individual personalities and strategies, not just their classes. He didn’t whine about the arrangement of mobs or the skills of bosses, always popular topics within a raid group, just accepted their existence and worked around them to the best of his abilities. His straightforward acceptance of Shiroe’s quest was typical of his personality.

 

“Since that’s the case…” William trailed off, then seemed to come to a decision, the sharp snap of a strategy chosen. The press of his attention had sharpened to the laser focus of an archer’s gaze. Shiroe tensed under the weight of it, held in place by a tightening of the hand around his arm and the pressure of William’s attention. “I’ll make my intentions known honestly.” He stepped forward, closing the space between them.

 

Shiroe spent a confused second trying to work out if this was a threat, his instincts clamoring between fight and flight. Then William had closed the distance between them and kissed him.

 

The press of his lips was firm for all that there was no force behind it. William simply lingered for a few seconds, long enough for Shiroe to realize what was going in, then pulled back and loosened his grip on Shiroe’s arm back to a light press of a hand. They were still too close for conventional conversational distance, warm breath mingling in the night.

 

“That’s…” Shiroe managed, automatically starting to bring his hand up to touch his mouth. He ended up brushing against William’s arm before realizing that in such close proximity it would be difficult to manage. He could still feel the lingering impression of warmth on his lips. “Why?” he asked, cutting through the clutter of his thoughts to get to the heart of the matter.

 

“Because I find you attractive and want to kiss you,” the archer said bluntly. At Shiroe’s nonplussed expression, he asked, “Is that really so hard to believe? Whenever you come into a room, you pull people’s attention to you. Anyone who’s heard of you respects you.” He huffed, breath caressing Shiroe’s face. “And I just spent a month learning that all the rumors about Shiroe the Archmage are true. Why,” he said, leaning in again with intent eyes to murmur the words against the enchanter’s mouth, “would anyone not find you attractive?”

 

Shiroe closed his eyes dazedly and tilted his head to slide his mouth into that seeking press. He heard William make a pleased noise, felt him angling for the best position, the hand on his arm sliding to cup his shoulderblade and shift him forward. His hands were dangling uselessly; Shiroe wasn’t quite sure what to do with them, whether or not he wanted to touch the archer. He focused instead on the slight movements of William’s fingers on his back, the way his warmth felt, shifting softly against the enchanter’s yielding lips. It wasn’t quite like those few times he’d kissed a girl; William was slightly taller than he was rather than shorter, his lips thinner, the force he used harder and more controlling. He probably, thought Shiroe absently, had more experience with this sort of thing.

 

On the heels of that thought, he felt William pull back minutely, almost a hesitation. It was enough to make Shiroe pause as well, a glimmer of fear of rejection rising for all that he didn’t know where he wanted to go with this. That instinctive reaction fled however, when William opened his mouth against Shiroe’s to slide his tongue over the enchanter’s lower lip, hot where their previous kisses had been warm. Shiroe felt the unyielding press of teeth and the sharp warmth of his exhalation as he delicately worried the sensitive flesh, biting down just hard enough to leave an impression. Warmth bloomed in Shiroe’s stomach, fluttery, then spread through his veins. It prompted him to open his mouth under the archer’s ~~.~~

William, not one to waste an opportunity given, sealed their lips together. He tasted of the wine that had been served downstairs, full-bodied with an edge of bitterness. Shiroe’s thoughts about his experience proved to be correct; he explored the enchanter’s mouth with skilled strokes, then set himself to driving future thoughts out of the strategist’s grasp entirely. Shiroe sank into a haze, leaning into the solidity of the other’s body, hand sliding automatically to rest against his ribs. He could feel the softness of the archer’s hair against his cheek.

 

They broke the kiss for air. The strategist blinked his eyes open with an effort, finally taking in how close the two of them were. His hands were pressed to the base of the archer’s ribcage at his sides, resting on the thick gray leather that underlaid the metal lattice that formed the upper layer of his armor. William had brought his left hand up to Shiroe’s waist, and was standing almost flush with the strategist, a bare inch between most of their bodies. The surrounding air had gotten colder, or perhaps Shiroe was just contrasting it with the warmth of standing so close to another person.

 

The guildmaster looked…not unaffected by their kisses, his lips slick and shiny with a subtle flush painted across his well-shaped cheekbones, his throat, and even his elven ears. His breath, Shiroe noticed now that he had taken a few lungfuls himself, was nearly as ragged. The colder air in his chest was bringing back his senses. It wasn’t like with Nureha, an assault on his mind to dull his thinking. This was all in his body, strange though it had been to him since the Apocalypse. This wasn’t a manipulation to get his guard down, wasn’t someone who he was responsible for. William was an adult, with the responsibilities of a guildmaster on his shoulders. If he wanted to, he could walk away and have that choice respected. If he wanted to, he could…

 

Shiroe tipped his head up slightly to explore the sharp line of William’s jaw with his lips. The archer tilted his head to the side obligingly, a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat. “Are you with me, strategist?” he asked, moving the hand on Shiroe’s shoulderblade to splay it across his spine a bit farther down.

 

Said strategist swiped his tongue over the offered skin, provoking a slight shiver. Bereft of the warmth provided by his breath, the paths his tongue took must be cold. “That depends.” William’s skin was smooth, no surprise for an elf player, and it had a slightly salty taste. “Is there somewhere else I should be?” The long section of hair that habitually hung in front of the archer’s face was in his way. He slid a hand up to push it out of his way, then, consideringly, tucked it back behind one of those elegantly pointed ears. He’d been curious about the various extra attributes gained by nonhuman players, but was hardly the kind of person was comfortable asking to examine them, even with people he knew wouldn’t take it amiss. However, in a situation like this…He ran a fingertip along the lower edge, noting the warmth of the skin even at the extremity. He felt William tense, fingertips digging into his back and side.

 

“Does that hurt?” Shiroe asked sharply, pulled back into the moment.

 

William made a strangled sound, and said breathlessly, “No…that’s not…”

 

“Ah.” Not painful stimulus then. He set out to explore more thoroughly, fingers pressing to the back while he ran his thumb over the smoother skin inside. Meanwhile, the archer’s breathing was going erratic as he smothered gasps in his throat. His head dropped to Shiroe's shoulder, bringing the subject of his attention closer. The strategist noted his progress by the depth and pace of the ragged breath against the base of his throat. A delicate press of his nail shallowed the pants to quick, sharp breaths. If that was the case, perhaps…

 

A moan tore its way free of William’s throat as the enchanter applied his mouth to the exploration, carefully testing the inner edge with small flicks of his tongue. He didn’t really want to test the flexibility of the cartilage, so he kept his fingers behind it, dragging the flat of his tongue in a single firm swipe all the way up to the tip. The sound William made was all but inhuman, the entirety of his body tensing, hands digging in to the point of pain.

 

Shiroe didn’t have too long to enjoy his victory, though. The archer’s position meant that he was close to a vulnerable spot of his own, and he seized the pause to exploit it. The strategist smothered a gasp of his own when teeth sank into the skin of his neck. William didn’t waste an instant, the pressure of his mouth unrelenting as he sucked on the spot, seeking to raise a bruise.

 

Shiroe found himself with a handful of blond hair, gripped instinctively, and a hot mouth sucking vivid bruises onto the line of his throat. Now that the initiative had shifted, William was set on capitalizing on the opportunity, giving no quarter. The strategist clutched at his points of contact as he struggled to catch up, hindered by the man now seeking to set markings as deliberately as he would battle markers on the bare skin of Shiroe’s neck.

 

“Hey, Shiro, are you hiding-“ Naotsugu’s cheerful voice cut off abruptly. Shiroe’s brain managed to supply an image of himself with his head thrown back in offering to the ravages of the guildmaster of the Silver Sword, hand fisted into long blond hair, perfectly displayed to anyone at the door.

 

William pulled back from him as much as the strategist’s grip on his hair would allow. Shiroe spent a dazed second entranced by his high color, wet mouth, and glazed eyes before recalling that he should really be addressing a different problem at the moment. He snapped his eyes to Naotsugu to see…well, it wasn’t as bad as it could be. The guardian had both his brows raised, but he didn’t look anything other than surprised. Even better, it was only him at the door.

 

“Naotsugu,” Shiroe began. He stalled somewhere in the middle of the sentence, unsure as to what, exactly, he was actually going to say. The guardian flicked his gaze from Shiroe to William.

 

He cleared his throat and said, mercifully, “How about I wait in the hall while you sort this out?”

 

~

 

Naotsugu shut the door to the outer terrace very deliberately. Then he, just as deliberately, backed up until he came to the opposite wall. Then, finally, he began to think about what he just walked into.

 

Naotsugu, however much he liked to play at it, was not stupid. Being a good game player, a good tank, tended to discourage stupidity. And he knew Shiroe- knew Shirogane Kei, not just the enchanter from Debauchery Tea Party. He knew the slightly younger man well enough to know how little experience the famed strategist had with both romance and the more physical side of dating. So walking in on Shiroe in the middle of what looked like a heavy makeout session with the guildmaster they had just spent a month accompanying down into the proverbial depths of hell was…worrying.

 

It wasn’t that he was really worried that William would take advantage of Shiroe. The strategist had a long history of people trying to take advantage of him, and the fastest way to get him to shut down was to attempt it. Look at that kitsune girl from the south- Shiroe had stopped her cold. And William was just about his or Shiroe’s age, or at least that was where Naotsugu’s estimate put him. Not that he couldn’t be wrong, especially after the Apocalypse. But William’s passion and capability led him to put him at about there. He sincerely doubted William had the kind of experience or mindset to take advantage of someone sexually.

 

It wasn’t Akatsuki either. Sure, Naotsugu might think it would be a good thing if Akatsuki managed to get over her shyness and confess her feelings for Shiroe. He even thought Minori might benefit from doing it, if only because Shiroe would undoubtedly and politely turn her down, since he had no business dating a middle schooler. But that was all on them. He wasn’t even sure that Shiroe knew about their crushes. Right now, Shiroe had no commitment to Akatsuki or Minori beyond that of a guildmaster for a guild member.

 

And there, Naotsugu thought, was the root of his worry. Responsibility.

 

The outer door opened, breaking into his thoughts. The Silver Sword guildmaster stepped through, looking considerably more composed than Naotsugu’s previous look at him, closing the door after him. He met the guardian’s eyes squarely.

 

Naotsugu kept his tone neutral. “Did you get everything settled?”

 

William’s eyes flicked to the door, then back to Naotsugu. “Yes, I think so. He just wanted a minute.” His voice was just as neutral as Naotsugu’s.

 

They spent a moment in half-wary silence before the guardian sighed. “Are you serious about this?” he asked, letting his concern color his expression. Questing together was one thing, but Shiroe was one of his closest friends.

 

William made a face, not quite a frown. “Does he have time for serious?” he asked, dryly. “I’m not sure I have time for it, and I’m not responsible for half the things he is.”

 

And there it was again, Naotsugu thought. Responsibility. Shiroe carried too much weight on his shoulders, and he let that burden wall him off from other people. And now he had a guild, the Round Table, and investigating a way to return everyone to their proper world, a list of responsibilities that were crushing in their magnitude. Kanami had always been best at breaking down those barriers, but she wasn’t here. She couldn’t tell him what the best thing to do was. All he could do was trust his judgment, and Shiroe’s too.

 

William continued, his voice cutting off that line of thought, “It’s not as if I can see the future, so I can only offer what I have right now.”

 

The outer door opening a second time put an end to the conversation for good. Shiroe, Naotsugu noted, had put the extra time to good use in getting back to his usual calm self. There was no help, however, for the very deliberate line of bites now coloring up the right side of his neck. He avoided Naotsugu’s gaze for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “It’s fine if you head to the inn on your own, right?” he asked quietly.

 

So that’s the way it was, the guardian thought with burgeoning amusement. “Sure. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Mischief prompted him to say, “Not too early though.” Shiroe blushed and made a wonderful sputtering sound.

 

Taking that as his cue to leave, he gave William a measuring look, waiting until he dipped his head in acknowledgement-be careful or you’ll regret it- before striding off back towards the party. “Have fun, Shiro!” he tossed back over his shoulder, mildly regretting that he couldn’t see the strategist’s face at that.

 

~

 

William led him up the back stairs, away from any too-interested eyes. Shiroe was grateful for the discretion- and the distraction. Now that Naotsugu had left, a crackle not dissimilar to his magic skittered over his skin. His breath was too fast, his hands a little shaky.

 

After the discipline of keeping an entire raid in his head at all times, living moment to moment, putting himself entirely in William’s hands, was much too tempting. He was so out of his depth, but…

 

William slid calloused fingers along his wrist and tugged him down the hallway. He stopped at the farthest door from the stairs and flicked his wrist to open the zone menu, toggling swiftly through the list of permissions. Shiroe’s name joined the short list of people authorized to enter- from the settings, William liked his privacy. The part of Shiroe’s brain that never shut off considered how he might play with zone permissions in the Log Horizon guildhall- as he’d already proven, the main guild hall could be suborned. That internal voice quieted to a low murmur when William finally opened the door and put a hand to the small of his back to guide him in.

 

It was smaller than Shiroe’s room at Log Horizon, paneled all in wood. A wardrobe stood against the right-hand wall, next to a window covered with green curtains. Straight ahead was a utilitarian desk, with a row of books held up by chunks of quartz, and scratch paper and lists lying fanned across its surface. A small lamp with an orange crystal instead of a flame cast warm light over the room. Above the desk were rough wooden frames containing what looked like leaves in the colors of different seasons- Shiroe recognized them as from an elf-specific quest, “Maiden Keeper’s Mirror.” Against the left wall was the bed, covered with a quilt in different shades of green with another folded at the foot.

 

Lured by the siren call of a bed that wasn’t blankets on a stone floor, Shiroe flopped down like the college student Shirogane Kei was. His brain caught up to him a second later when William made a noise of amusement. Well, Shiroe thought, looking up at the elf from his sprawl, a flush beginning to crawl up his neck again, at least _partly_ amusement.

 

“I take it you’re still with the program?” William asked, planting a hand on the bedspread and leaning over Shiroe.

 

“Yes,” Shiroe breathed, then caught the back of the archer’s neck and pulled him down into another kiss. William braced himself with his arms bracketing Shiroe and kissed back, harder and more intent than downstairs. The enchanter grabbed fistfuls of slightly wavy hair, sending most of the mass spilling over William’s shoulders to curtain them. The heat he’d felt before had returned even stronger for being delayed.

 

An annoyed sound met his ears, and William pulled back a bare inch. “I can’t believe I’m still wearing _armor_ ,” he complained, shifting his weight over onto one hand and fumbling with the equipment menu.

 

He had a point. Shiroe reluctantly released a handful of blond hair and opened his own window, sending his cloak and the belt and bag digging into his hip into storage. The release lifted a weight from his shoulders he’d carried for the whole month, a watchful wariness that any Adventurer cultivated in the field. But the Silver Sword owned this zone, Susukino was free of monsters, and there was no reason why Shiroe needed to think about anything outside of this room for at least eight hours.

 

“Oh,” Shiroe said as William finished managing his own gear. Assassins were a light armor class, but now Shiroe could appreciate how much it had been in their way. Dressed in only a light green undertunic and dark pants, the lean lines of William’s body could be more easily discerned. Most distracting was where Shiroe’s legs bracketed his thighs, the warmth that radiated from his body.

 

An obvious next step presented itself, and Shiroe followed it without hesitation. He wrapped his legs around William’s waist and pulled him that much closer, relishing all that assassin muscle pinning him down. The repetition of the motion had more to do with the breath that left both of their lungs when Shiroe ground against William’s erection, pressing his own groin against the clothed plane of the archer’s stomach.

 

Shiroe was struck, suddenly and absurdly, by the thought of doing this as Roe2, who he’d almost logged in as months ago. He bit his lip to keep a totally inappropriate giggle from breaking free. Now he was in in bed with another man, when his prior experience with sex pretty much added up to some heavy petting with one of his classmates. Elder Tale had always been the place where he struck forward, from accomplishing the impossible for Kanami to taking the lead in Akibahara. He just hadn’t expected _this_.

 

“What’s that face for?” William pressed his thumb to Shiroe’s abused lower lip, just as breathless as Shiroe felt.

 

“I’ve never been with a man,” Shiroe said truthfully, glossing over the first part of his train of thought. “Have you?”

 

“Nope,” William said flippantly. He continued, his voice low and husky, “But I’ve been dying to have your hands on me, so I think we can figure something out.”

 

“Oh,” Shiroe said again, feeling a flush climb his cheeks at the confession. He mustered his thoughts for the purpose of strategy. “Then you should take this off.” He tugged at William’s short-sleeved tunic.

 

Even though he’d been the one to suggest it, Shiroe couldn’t help but be disappointed when William pulled back and started working on his laces. For the sake of minimizing further distractions, Shiroe sat up and grabbed the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head and leaving his glasses askew on his nose. He dropped it to the floor with barely a twinge of guilt and kicked off his shoes. The enchanter hesitated with his hands on the waistband of his pants, just for a moment, then shucked those too.

 

Calloused hands caught his shoulders from behind, and William breathed into the crook of his neck, “God, you’re pretty.” Then the archer set about biting marks to match the ones he’d put on Shiroe’s throat before. Shiroe squirmed back against him, against his cock, hands reaching to touch what he couldn’t see. Bare skin was hot against Shiroe’s perennially cool hands.

 

Huffing with frustration, Shiroe complained, “I thought you wanted my hands on you? I can hardly touch you like this.” Despite his tone, he was harder than ever. It was embarrassing to think about coming just from writhing on the archer’s lap, but Shiroe could picture it happening all too easily.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” William grated, abandoning his work on Shiroe’s neck. The enchanter ended up on his back again, pressed down by the archer’s weight. This time when Shiroe wrapped his legs around William’s waist there were no barriers in between them, and Shiroe arched at the sensation. It pushed their erections together more firmly, both of them making overwhelmed sounds.

 

Shiroe dug his short nails into William’s bare back and moved again, a moan spilling from his throat. William made his own raw noises into the soft skin above Shiroe’s collarbone, eagerly grinding down to try and match him. The rhythm was shockingly easy, shockingly _good_ , slick with sweat and desire. Shiroe dragged William down harder and urged him on with a heel hooked over his back.

 

Each breath was urgent now, a whine in each exhalation. Shiroe was almost there, hands moving restlessly across the muscles working in William’s back as he writhed under the archer’s solid weight. A glimmer of memory surfaced, and he followed it and mouthed along the line of William’s ear. The noise of shock was sweet, but the shudder as William came was even sweeter. Shiroe thrust against him through the slick spill and found his own release, head thrown back and voice caught.

 

Shirogane Kei would probably have at least had trouble breathing with a person sprawled on top of him, but Shiroe wasn’t so fragile, and he found liked the weight. William couldn’t get any closer, but Shiroe tightened his grip anyway, letting the archer pant into his shoulder with unaccustomed fondness. That fondness prompted him to press slow kisses to William’s damp temple. After a few moments, William sought his mouth again and they languidly shared each other’s breath until Shiroe shivered from the cool air.

 

“We’re lying on top of the blankets,” William observed.

 

“That’s true,” Shiroe responded, not making any attempt to move despite the chill.

 

William snorted and untangled himself partway, much to Shiroe’s displeasure. He only shook out the folded blanket draped over the foot of the bed and pulled it up over both of them. Mollified, Shiroe tugged him back down.

 

~

 

Naotsugu took in Shiroe’s relaxed shoulders, alert eyes, and the small smile tugging at his lips and decided that he liked William, not just the guildmaster of the Silver Sword. Anybody who could make Shiroe look like that deserved Naotsugu’s respect.

 

The two guildmasters had said their farewells very properly with a firm handclasp. The archer had caught Naotsugu’s eyes after that, expression steady. Naotsugu had given him a nod, and received one in return, and then they had left to collect Tetra and head back to Akibahara.

 

“Susukino’s looking much better than it did the last time I was here,” Shiroe said softly, breaking into Naotsugu’s contemplation.

 

“The Silver Sword's done a good job,” Naotsugu replied, then impishly, “We might have to come up here more often.”

 

Shiroe flushed adorably and glared at him. “Don’t _tease_ ,” the younger man warned him.

 

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Shiro. I just want you to be happy, is all.” The guardian slung an arm around the enchanter’s slim shoulders. “But you did have fun, right?”

 

Shiroe went as red as a phoenix and pushed off Naotsugu’s arm to stalk away with stiff dignity. “I’m not,” he said, “telling you anything.”

 

Naotsugu laughed and followed after his guildmaster.

 


End file.
